A String of Legends-Spamano
by ActiveGalacticNucleus
Summary: I am traveling across Spain right now. Since I love folklore and local legends, I am asking around in the villages I visit for stories about the place, and Hetalizing them. Some are AU, some are canonverse. Most are Spamano versions of whatever I am told. Independent oneshots I can update daily. Bad side: In the road there are no betas and English sin t my 1st language.
1. A Pact With the Devil

AU: Romano, a young servant, is sick of carrying water from the local spring to his master´s kitchen. He gets an offer he just can´t turn down.

Featuring: Romano, Spain, Hungary, Austria.

* * *

 **Segovia: The Aqueduct of the Devil**

...

Once upon a time there was a serving girl living in the city of Segovia, or, so we say to protect the culprit´s identity. It was actually a boy though. His name was actually Romano, and he lived in one of the large monumental buildings his Boss owned across the dry lands of Spain. Romano´s boss was kind to him, but he was busy man and could only pay attention to his young charge after dinner, when they both went up to the stone city walls and watched the stars complete their lazy walk over the sky. To make things worse, dry lands are called dry lands for a reason and getting water was a struggle. Since his boss was always busy protecting them both it was up to Romano to walk several times per day to the top of the hill where the lonely spring run, pitcher in hand, and carry the water all the way back to the house, to water the fields and serve his master´s kitchen.

Romano hated that task. Well, he hated any task in general but that one he had a special hatred for. It was hard and exhausting, and honesty, he was quite a lazy fellow. Besides, he fantasized, if it were not for the need of water in his master's house he would have time to accompany his boss in his travels and spend more time with him. He felt like with so many obligations on both side, his boss never noticed him, and for some reason he **really** really wanted to be noticed.

" **I´d** love to have you along, **Roma** , but we need someone here to take care of the house and bring water from the mountain top." He hated the task, he hated the water, and he hated the pitcher! He hated it all so much that one day, in the middle of a tantrum, he threw the metallic pitcher to the ground and cursed and swore that he would sell his soul to the devil if he did not have to carry a single glass of water from the river to the fountain ever again.

Hold and behold though! The clear skies were illuminated by a supernatural lightning. When Romano turned towards the light, startled, he found an elegant man with black hair, glasses, and a red suit standing right behind him. The sunny street got filed by soft, metric piano music that seemed to follow the stranger like a shadow. "I have heard that you hate that jerk that is your master, and that you hate fetching water for him. Is that true?"

"Yes! Yes it is" He did not, but he hates that Spain made him work in the slightest. And worse! He hated that no matter how hard he tried to work he never seemed to get his boss´s admiration. What was the point to do any work if his boss never seemed to notice it? With his heart pained by unrequited love and his feet hurting he felt close enough to hate to believe his own words.

" And I have heard that you would do anything to get rid of such an unpleasant task."

"Yes! Yes I would!"

"Oh! What a fortunate coincidence... Tell me, Romano, how would you feel if I told you I can take your problems away? I can make water come to your doorstep without you moving a muscle Because it turns out that I can. I can build a structure so mighty and magnificent that would save you all those walks up and down the ramp between your master´s home and the river, and deliver the water right to your door. And the price would be simple, just your immortal soul."

Romano looked up, suspicious, He was tempted to accept. He was a nation after all. It is not like he used his soul all that much anyway, and he was almost immortal, so he would not have to face hell in a very long time. But still, he was a religious nation, and he was pretty sure that a soul is one of those things. Feeling his hesitation, the devil made an even better offer

"I'll make a bet with you. I will build the entire thing in one single night. If I fail, I will return your soul back to you. Else, your soul will be mine and you will live with me forever. How does that sound?"

Romano looked at the man up and down. He was thin and didn't look too impressive. His hands were delicate, with long pianist fingers. They were the hands of a musician, not of a peon, and all the rock around this land was hard granite, hard, stubborn and insensitive like his boss's heart! Romano smirked and agreed, congratulating himself on his cunningest. There was no way he could ever lose that bet.

Oh! He was so clever! He would accept the deal, and, since the stranger would never have time to finish the entire thing, he wouldn't have to pay, but he would already have part of the structure built for free, and he would have to make a shorter way to fetch water from them on! Besides, even if he lost, what did he lose anyway? He wouldn't die in a very long time.  
With a predatory smile, he shook the stranger's hand and accepted the deal.

The stranger pushed his glasses up with one finger and shook the kid´s hand. Romano felt his breath drain from him the moment their hands shook. No, it was not his breath, it was something deeper, as if his mere essence was being dragged out of him from his mouth, Romano fell on his knees and bent over his stomach, trying to keep that mysterious something in, but it was no use. When the terrible drawing sensation died out the elegant stranger smiled and disappeared into thin air, taking the metric piano music with him. Romano run back to his master´s house and hid under the bed for the rest of the day.

At dinner time, the young boy crawled out, looking left and right to make sure no sinister strangers were lurking in the shadows. He was still scared, but there was no way he was going to miss his favorite part of the day, and the only time in which his secretly adored boss paid attention to him. He crawled out of the room and walked down to the kitchen. His boss crossed his path though, and instead of saying hi he just walked right past him. The bastard almost walked over him!

"Hey!" Romano protested, not used to such a cold treatment. His young boss turned to him, eyes proud and slightly aloof.  
"Excuse me, but I am not in the habit of allowing strangers to address me with such disrespect. Who are you and why are you in my house?" Romano´s mouth fell open. The stranger knitted his brows, eyes narrowing dangerously. He expected an explanation and quick, and were not used to waiting for what he demanded. Romano´s heart was paralyzed with dread.  
" I-It is me! I´m Romano, dammit! Who else would it be?" His boss tended to overlook small details, he was often too caught in his own thoughts to care about them, but this was ridiculous "W-We should go to the kitchen now! Or dinner will get cold".

"Romano and I will go, as soon as I find him, but you, whomever you are, are not going anywhere."

"Wh-what the heck do you think you are talking about! This-this is not funny y-you jerk-!" he had no time to finish his insult, a hand slapped him across the face so strong he ended up on the floor. He looked up, incredulous. The green-eyed teenager glared at him as if he really didn't recognize him.

"I don't usually hit children, brat, but sneaking into my house, insulting me and trying to pass for my friend is a step too far. I don't know who you are, if you are a spy, as I suspect you are, you better run with your life now, before I have time to realize that I am being too generous for my own good. I don't have much time to spend with Romano and I don't plan on wasting it with you."

Romano stared, completely horrified. ´You are being too generous for your own good´ was what Romano has complained about when his boss had allowed a french spy to run with his life after being discovered, just a month ago. Romano had been furious then. He had yelled, totally mad with the fear of what could happen to his boss as punishment for his generosity, and had made the teenager swear to him that he'd never let a spy leave his house alive again. With a shiver, and a broken heart, Romano run off the house and across the stone paved streets of Segovia, before his boss decided to not be a dick and honor the promise he had made to him. Night was starting to fall, the moon was rising in the sky, and in the horizon Romano could see a gigantic structure of arches being built at a supernatural speed.

Romano´s blood froze in his veins. Would he lose his boss and his soul forever?

With a sob caught in his throat, the poor serving kid climbed to the highest tree in the city to observe the construction that was happening along the mountain side. The man with the red suit and the glasses moved faster than the wind, cutting stone and piling it with a skill and celerity that no living creature should ever possess. The stranger had now two black wings and a tail, and he flew from one point to the next, carried by mysterious air currents. The cry that was caught in his throat broke free. Panic run through his spine and weakened his legs until they could barely hold him. He couldn't even keep his pants dry when he realized what he had done.

In his desperation, the kid remembered the words of priests and monks he was forced to listen to every Sunday. He climbed down the tree and run as fast as his legs allowed him to the closest chapel in town, a modest church built to keep our Lady of Fuencisla safe. He fell on his knees in front of the image of the Holy Virgin and prayed desperately, crying his eyes out. In the mists of his despair he heard the strange noise of frying eggs. He opened his reddened eyes and saw a woman glowing with warm light standing on top of the altar. She had long, flowing hair, a veil over her head and a frying pan on one hand.

"So, this piano jackass in red managed to fool you, huh?"

"No! I-Uh-I... Yes! I-I! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please help me!"

"I wish I could. I really like putting him in his place, but there is nothing I can do Romano, you made the deal voluntarily."

"I-I´m sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know! I-"

"Yes, you did know. You wanted everyone to work for you and pay your attention, to make you happy, but you refused to work for them in return. You were selfish and egocentric, and you thought you could have it all."

"YesI yes I was... I... I just wanted to-"

"Do you have any idea of how hard your boss must work to keep you and make time for you? How everyone here works to keep the city alive, so they can all have a place to live together and be friends and love and live? Is it that much to ask for you to contribute too?"

"No! No it isn't! I understand now! I do! Please! Help me!" The woman looked at him for a long time. She finally sighted, and nodded with her head. Her eyes were hard and determined, but there was compassion in them.

"Very well. Prove it."

With those words, the mysterious lady materialized the pitcher that Romano had abandoned that morning in the middle of the street and threw it at his feet. The object rolled with an ugly metallic sound. Then, the woman disappeared.

Romano grabbed the pitcher and run off to the mountaintop. He filled it with water and run back to his master´s house, emptying it in the reservoir of the basement. Then he run back up, filled the pitcher in the fountain again, and run back down again. He run up and down, up and down as fast as he could. He ignored the pain in his legs and his empty lungs. He tripped many times and rolled down stony hillsides, but he didn't stop. By his side the titanic construction or granite kept growing, two full lines of arches already built, and the mysterious man was about to finish the third one. Romano felt tears in his eyes, but his feet knew the way between his house and the spring by heart, so he kept running and carrying water. His master's water reservoir had never been so full, because Romano always did the exact minimum he had to avoid trouble, but the kid did not stop and kept pushing himself further, powered by the fear of losing all he loved forever.

Down in the town, something was happening. The people from Segovia, gathered there by Romano´s masters, were marching out through the streets and into the woods with torches, looking for the missing kid. Romano could hear the voices calling for him, and that broke his heart. His master's voice broke his heart more than any other, it was strong and clear, but Romano knew it well enough to feel the terrible anguish that lurked behind its surface. Anguish that he had caused, with his stupidity. He really wanted to throw the pitcher to the ground and run to his master´s arms, but he know that he couldn't, because his master would not see in him the soul he was looking for and would just cast him aside. So he kept running and carrying water uphill and downhill. He kept working even when the darkness of the night started to fade and the blackness of the sky became dark blue. He kept running even when the man in red with the black wings was almost done. He kept running even though he could see that the day would not break soon enough to stop him. He kept working, even though he knew himself defeated, and, when he saw the devil standing on top of his wonderful construction and about to put the last stone in place, Romano´s last thought was that even though he'd have to leave his home and spend an eternity in hell, at least he'd have left a full reservoir for his master, and he would not have to worry about water in days.

As that thought formed into his heart, the lady from the chapel appeared again in front of him and with a swing of her pan she batted the sun out of the horizon and into the sky, forcing the night to end minutes before it was due to. The luminous rays hit the demon in red heads on, right when he was about to put down the very last stone of his marvelous aqueduct. The devil screamed in rage and disappeared, letting the stone fall to the ground and leaving his aqueduct unfinished by just one stone.

Romano let the pitcher fell and dropped to his knees to thank the lady, who smiled and faded away.

His boss found him at the feet of the aqueduct, curled into a ball. The man run to the serving boy, calling him, and dragged him into a tight hug that got warmth into the poor servant´s frozen bones. The kid shook and hugged back, burying his face in his master's shirt and not bothering to hid his crying. Fuck it, they could see him cry if they wanted to. He had just learned that there were worse things than looking weak. He had just learned that there were worse things than anything he thought he hated before.

" I was so worried, Roma" the green-eyed teen whispered in his ear, hugging him tighter. Romano nodded, but he couldn't speak. He just cling to the older boy for dear life and allowed him to shower him with affection and comforting words, enjoying each one of them.

"I´m sorry I´ve made you search all night" he mumbled, finally "You must be tired"

His master smiled and kissed his tears away

"It is okay, Roma. If it is for you it isn´t even hard. Let's go home, okay? You must be exhausted"

The kid looked down, but refused to let go. He didn't want to part from that embrace to walk. He didn't want to be away even for an instant. With a knowing smile, his boss picked him up and carried him in his arms. The man noticed the wetness of the kid´s pants, of course, but he didn't pull away, repugnant, as Romano had loosely feared he would.

"Let me guess, squirrels?" the young man joked fondly, to lighten up the mood. Romano wrapped his arms around his master´s neck and hid his face in the crook of his neck.

"No." he mumbled, too exausted and too wise after such a terrible experience to lie anymore "I was just afraid I was going to lose you."

On the next day the people of Segovia marveled at the story the serving boy told half way, keeping the embarassing secrets to himself. There was a lot of secret excitement among the town´s servants. The construction might have been built by the enemy of God and all, but it worked marvelously well and everyone was sick of pitching water by foot. So they decided to place the figure of Our Lady of Fuencisla on the gap of the missing stone to keep the evil influences away and call it a day. The devil´s aqueduct was used by everyone in town, except for one person. Romano still prefered to pitch his water by foot. It was tiring, and boring, and a hateful task all around, but his boss was out there working for them both and showing that he cared by fighting turks somewhere in the Mediterranean, and Romano needed a way to show that he also cared.

Or he did, for the first year. After that, lazyness won, but hey! It is the thought that counts.

* * *

The aqueduct of Segovia is a second century roman infraestructure that is still in use.

-Any similarity between this story and the story of the building of the walls of Asgard, and other stories about miracles in which the sun is made to rise early you may find in western France and southern England, is most likely NOT a coincidence. There was a lot of shared influence and culture all along the Atlantic coast of Europe people tend to forget about.


	2. Of Love and Birds

Canonverse, mostly character exploration: A small tragedy. France and Spain talk about love and birds.  
This is not a legend but an anecdote about a place.

Featuring: Spain and France

* * *

...

Monfragüe Natural Park: **The Frenchman´s Fountain, Of Love and Birds**

...

"If it is any consolation, Francis, my people won't forget him."

"I find it a little hard to believe."

"You should not, the story is already passing around." Spain gazed over the Duero. So thin and dry compared to the rivers of northern Europe, so shallow, and yet so full of unexpected strength and wild, dark power. The northerners underestimated the wilderness of Spain's land, they always did. The openness of the fields, the small animals and the blinding sun fooled them. France looked up, at the quick and anxious songbirds that jumped from branch to branch at the death of day. The falcons lied sleeping in their rocky nests over the river, and on the ground the small creatures got a couple of hours of relief before the hunt of the next day.

"Why?"

"His story matters to my people." The Frenchman just allowed his eyes to travel the skies, following the last lonely falcon who was making its way to the mountain top.

"You have a morbid fascination with death, Spain. You know that? You and your people. You always have."

"It is not about death."

" Of course it is, you love death. Bulls, wars..."

"It is not about death. It is about love."

"That´s crazy."

" You can't say you love something unless you are willing to die for it." France sighed and shook his head. "You are insane, you know that? You have always been completely nuts."

"Maybe. But I know you think the same way." he buried a hole in France's mask "You just hide it better, but why else would you come, from all the million of your people dying all over your land and out of it, to this particular spot, in mine, to take this man home, if not for love?" France smiled, defeated and somehow glad about it. "It was just a bird, Antonio. A bird fell into the water and the kid jumped into the river to save it. Your people told him that the river was dangerous a million times before, and he just ignored them."

"It was not just a bird for him. Your man was an ornithologist. Birds were his passion." France almost snorted.

" Passion. I guess you would respect that, wouldn't you? " Spain smiled too, a little smile, translucent like the dying sunlight, and patted his almost-friend´s back to prompt him to walk back with him towards the village. Their steps lifted small clouds of red dust as they walked between the dark trees.

"So, a plaque or something?"

"No. A fountain for the hikers, near the trail"

"The trail where he died? Morbid."

"The trail where he went to observe the falcons. So it is easier to go up and more people can go up and observe the birds he loved" France hummed. It was fitting, in a way. Macabre, from his point of view, but Spain's logic was twisted, it had always been.

"I bet they made fun of them. Knowing you and knowing them. The two french brats that run around chasing after birds instead of doing some real work." Spain snorted softly.

"Of course they did. You need to understand. People here really suffered during the war...and here they are, a couple of kids whose parents are giving them money to spend months living abroad and running after birds" The Spaniard smiled fondly and looked at the group of people that waited for them at the entry of the village's cemetery. They knew the kid, loved them in a way. They are gregarious people, in a small place where everyone knows everyone else, so they had truly flooded and packed around the lonely foreigner. France smiled, a little touched himself. They all were in a tight group around the surviving Frenchman, providing as much comfort to the broken kid as they could. They were gregarious people and the two ornithologists had spent months among them. They were a part of the village now, and he knew his people would not have left the young grieving man alone a freaking minute unless asked to(and asked repeatedly). The kid leaned on the landlady that had been hosted them, face pale and eyes opaque. It had been a while now, but nobody should have to watch his best friend drown from the shore without being able to do a thing to help.

"They don't make fun anymore, though" France said out loud, looking at the group, and a little touched himself. Antonio looked almost offended.

"No. I just told you. He showed that he can truly love. We respect that."

The French snorted, shaking his head, but Antonio could tell that there was agreement under that gesture. Agreement that France was too afraid to recognize he felt.

"Is that how you did it, Tony?"

"How I did what?"

"Sweet talk Romano into falling in love with you. Did you talk to him about that twisted idea, of love and willingness to die?" Spain laughed softly.

" Of course not. Romano can't be talked into things." He answered in a whisper, his smile getting a new depth " I showed him." France looked a bit taken aback, but the other´s smile didn't falter for a second. " You know that, France. You, and Turkey, and Sweden and half of Europe were there. I took you on all at once, remember?" France looked at him, not to sure of how he was supposed to answer to that. Spain just smiled and patted his back, getting ready to make his way back towards the village

"Take care of the other kid. He was brave; and... He is always welcome to come back. We will do our best to take care of his friend, until they can take him back home. He showed that he can truly love, he has earned my respect and I'll treat him as one of my own dead. You should also come back, on a happier time. We can do some stargazing together. The sky is gorgeous in this park." With that, the Spaniard disappeared towards the city hall. France was left alone with his thoughts. A fountain by the place where he died then. A fountain by the place where he showed that he really loved. Spain might be crazy, but he was also right in hos own, twisted way.

If France had learned something in his long years alive, it was how true love looks like.

* * *

"La fuente del francés", "The Frenchman´s Fountain" is located in Monfragüe National Park, in loving memory of Alain Jonsson, who died on April the 24th, 1979, while trying to rescue a bird that had fallen into the Duero. His body rested in the cementery of Torrejón el Rubio and his grave was taken care of by the local neighbours until very recently.


	3. The Treasure of the Seven Moor Kings

Canonverse: A treasure spent centuries waiting to be brought to light.

Featuring Spain and Romano

* * *

Mérida: **The Treasure of the Seven Moor Kings**

 **...**

At the top of the hill from which Antonio observed the little houses of Mérida fan down towards the river, there were seven gigantic chairs built out of breaks of carved stone. The young nation was touching one right now, feeling the careful stonework and the joints of the bricks that spoke of a skilled craftsman, not of some natural event. His people told that this seven chairs, tall like houses and with strangely dented surfaces that the weather had worn out, had belonged to seven gigantic and powerful Moor Kings that used to rule Iberia and loot the gold in its norther mountains and its Visigoth´s mines. Antonio could imagine them, covered in gold and silk as sultans used to be, carrying so many gems on their fingers that one wondered how they could lift their arms at all, dark beards curling proudly and intelligent dark eyes full of magic and secrets. This giants had helped the other moors take over the land with their magical powers and theirs spells of drought and wind and storm. After that, the seven wise and powerful giants had set their headquarters on top of that hill. From there they ruled their world, gave advice to their people and solved their differences as a council of wise men. They were also rich and competed with each other to see who could get the most beautiful treasure out there. They went out in raids against christians, and they sailed away to distant lands in Alexandria and India, and came back with mountains of gold and precious gemstones, with crowns and jewels and idols of beautiful outlines.

The Seven chairs formed the edge of a perfect circle, and it was easy to imagine the gigantic round table of finely polished wood set in the middle, with all sorts of delicious dishes and exotic fruit brought from far away or conjured by magic. Antonio imagined them playing chess, like they were so fond of and like they had taught him to play. His people even said that they had found some of the pieces the giants used in their boards. They showed him hands and heads of marble figures made to be tall as a regular man, if not taller, all exquisitely carved, that were found by digging around the seven chairs. When city fell under Antonio's attacks, the seven wise Moors gathered all their treasures and buried them right in the center of the ring of gigantic stone chairs, and then they had fled for their lives, hoping to return one day and reclaim their richness. Until then, the wonderful treasure lied buried, waiting for whomever was ready to dig and find it.

To be honest, Antonio didn't believe half of this, nor did his people. However, they didn't have a better explanation for such a marvelous construct! After Mérida had spent centuries lot to the Arabs, none of Antonio's people remembered what was there. He was curious. His people was too, they kept trying to dig and finding little, and unsettling treasures, like hands and heads of what looked like the gigantic chess pieces that the Moorish Kings had used in their games. But no matter how curious Antonio might be, he was not owner of himself anymore. He had never really been. Antonio kicked the earth one last time, saying bye to whatever was hiding there. Then, with a sight, he left to reunite with the rest of the army that was gathering down in the city of Mérida. He had been called to arms yet again. News had come from Colon's second trip and, even though it didn't seem that there was much in the New World who was worth the trip, he had the duty to explore and if possible keep an eye on those guys so things went smoother than the first time. Plus, Austria needed saving, again, and his new German king needed him to fight for God knows what relative of his God knows where in Germany too. There was no money or time for legends. The marvelous books of spells and the gigantic chess table Antonio longed to see would have to wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Because he was never ruler of himself, and he was starting to believe he would never be. His curiosity, him, never really mattered in the end. He saw Empires rise and fall, He was himself one of them. He saw his heart stolen, returned and taken away from him. He saw the arrival of the twentieth century and finally, he saw a curious man from Madrid with the funniest hat and the thickest mustache in miles walk towards the sacred meeting place of the seven Moorish Kings. He talked Spain´s boss into giving him permission of money, and finally got a team to dig around the gigantic stone chairs and finally figure out what they were supposed to be!

The workers found that the tilt continued in a perfectly straight tamp, all of them seemed to converge towards a center. The arts that had been protected by dirt still kept the human chair size shape they once had, like rows and rows of steps on which people could seat. The seven chairs continued down in a succession of smaller benches, perfectly preserved, and among statues and bits of arches. They found a gigantic statue of what now Antonio knew was possibly the Goddess Ceres (even though she would make an awesome white queen for the chess his childish heart still had the hope to put together). And, by the end of the titanic works, Antonio´s people had unearthed a complete Roman theater, with amphitheater and Colosseum attached to it, that Rome had built as a prize to his soldiers who had fought in the Cantabric wars centuries ago. The chairs turned out to be the eroded leftovers of the seven higher rows of seats of the theater!

It was an archaeological sensation of the time! People run in circles and pulled at their hair and congratulated Spain in more languages than he could even understand, but as usual, Antonio had another plan. He had another plan the second he realized what the mysterious construction was. You see? Antonio was not against gold, or against interesting old buildings, but he had other priorities. So, in the middle of the frenzy of the announcement, Antonio nodded politely at the nations congratulating him for his newfound inheritance, smiled thankful to the representatives of international universities, and the moment he could he sneaked out of the building and down the corridor. He walked the streets until he found his target, the royal theater. There was a lovely lady there he needed to talk to. For his plan to work, Antonio needed big soft boobs. He didn't have any of his own, but he knew of someone who did and would be glad to help him.

Two days after he was in the office of the director of the excavation, with his most charming grin on his face. "You want to revive the theater?" the good Sr Mélida, leader of the excavation, exclaimed, eyes wide "you must mean restore, right?" "Not at all. It is a theater, right? Well, let´s use as such, that is what it was built for!" "Dear Antonio, I don't think you quite grasp the concept of ´ruins´here" "You said it was in great condition." "Well, for being two millennia old, yes, it is, but that does not equal usable!" "We will figure something out! We always "Look, Antonio, I get that you are excited, but you-you are at the break of some big civil disorder, and we all know that-nobody performs actual plays in their Roman theaters for God´s shake!"

"Well, nobody ever did something has never stopped me from trying and finding a way. You are a historian my friend! You should know that" Antonio informed with false innocence. Excited? P-lease! He was a former Empire. His plans, his thoughts, were always more complex than just childish excitement. Ah...people were so easily fooled by his smile, it got depressing sometimes. he was excited, sure, but over all, he had a plan. His plan was a bit older than the sudden roman hype the academic world was suffering after the excavations had been completed. He actually had set his mind to returning the theater to use far before the excavations were over, and nobody has done it before was indeed part of why he needed to do it. The catalyst had nothing to do with his own interest in theater though, it had to do with the last international meeting: In the last international meeting the two large blocks of international relationships were already visible, with England, Germany and France butting heads over their colonial power in Africa, and Felicia no all over Germany. Romano had been sitting into a corner of the room. Since the (Spain suspected, forced) unification with his brother, Romano had become darker, quieter, and more bitter, as if resigned to disappear. Spain was resigned to not know what was going on with the country, Romano was too proud and would never say a word, but he did know what was going on with the man. He knew his friend far too well. he knew his sadness, and his feeling of being invisible in the international stage...The way those strange eyes were loosing their fire...

Spain redirected his thoughts to the present when he felt fury against everyone responsible heating up his blood again. he didn't want old habits involving violence and pole-axes resurfacing, and he could feel they were about to. Instead, he smiled brightly at the director of the excavation. "Why do you care so much, Spain?" "I have my reasons." "But why?" "It is personal." "Well, my answer is no! F0orget it." "I understand your concerns, but there is someone who wants to talk to you about this. She has a plan to re-enact classical Roman and Greek plays, and she really wants to show her ideas to you!" The academic opened his mouth to protest and declare, yet again, that nobody was reenacting anything in the invaluable archeological ruins, and that no other nation had been insane enough to even try.

Ah! But, before the very reasonable and gray man could finish his very reasonable and gray argument, Antonio´s secret weapon kicked in. The actress of the moment, the queen of the Spanish theaters at the time and a woman to behold entered into the room dressed in a red roman dress, all silk and soft fabric that hug her sculptural figure. She smiled at the man, letting her black curls escape the roman hairdo she was wearing and bounce over her shoulders. She explained how important it was for her to perform in his city, and how she had everything figured out. The determination of the very gray gentleman shattered and turned into colorful fireworks. Permission granted. Antonio smirked with the satisfaction of a mission almost accomplished. Looming civil war and painful fever be damned. "Why do you care so much?" She had asked him too, once the meeting was over, and they both had gotten what they wanted "is it the international publicity?" "Partially." "International recognition?" "Partially." "Do you want to forget about terrorism in the north?" "Partially." "And the other part?" Spain just winked an eye.

"I'd like to keep that part private." There were some logistic difficulties in such an unorthodox scenery of course but, just as Antonio predicted they figured it out. The initial resistance and horror of academics soon became blind excitement. The months prior to the inauguration all sorts of distinguished figures of the worlds of politics, history and art were expected to attend, and among all those presences there was one who could not be uninvited, of course: the Italian ambassador. In the next world conference the deed was known, and of course Antonio took the chance to invite the nation who had created both the plays and the theater to attend. Italy jumped up on the chair enthusiastically, and after a bit of dramatist assured that, even though he would have to do wonders with his very busy schedule, he would always find a moment for his dear big brother Spain. Antonio let him finished, and tried to be as gentle as possible "Sorry, Feli, but I was actually not referring to you…"

"Ve?" "I mean... Since it is a Roman theater, and it is a Roman play...my people would be really honored if Romano could come instead; I mean, if he doesn't have another compromise…" "Oh", well, I guess…" Feli´s voice was turned out in the background, lost to Antonio. So was anything said by anyone from that point on. From his little, dark corner Romano had lifted his eyes in surprise, a tiny, touched smile spreading on his lips as he looked at Spain in a way that made his heart melt and his entire world light up again.

"It is a formal request." he added "From one nation to another. My people won't have anyone else" Spain confirmed "nor would I." "Y-yeah, I can go, I think." the Italian said, voth surprisingly gentle and full of understanding and unspoken things only Spain knew how to read. Looking at that tiny smile full of resurrected hope, Antonio knew that the legends were true, there had been a treasure waiting for whomever dug between the seven moor king´s chairs, that smile didn't deserve to be called anything but a treasure, and Antonio had just gotten it.

"Y-yeah, I can go, I think." the Italian said, voz surprisingly gentle and full of understanding and unspoken things only Spain kenw how to read.

Looking at that tiny smile full of resurrected hope, Antonio knew that the legends were true, there had been a treasure waiting for whomever dug between the seven moor king´s chairs, that smile didn't deserve to be called anything but a treasure, and Antonio had just gotten it.

* * *

The Roman Theatre of Mérida, Spain, was built around the year 15 bC . It is the only one in the world who got his original function back. The Classical Theatre Festival of Mérida is a yearly event hosted there, it has had 64 editions so far, and speaking with the tour guide I found out that the Italian embassador (and in my head, Romano) is invited to it every year.


	4. The Company of the Aching Souls

AU: It was the night in which the Company of Aching Souls roamed the streets. Romano knew not to go out or open the door past midnight, no matter what the tricky souls said. The undead are very persuasive though...

Featuring Antonio and Romano.  
Warning for mentions of child abuse

* * *

...

Lorenzana: **The Company of the Aching Souls**

...

It was the night in which the Company of Aching Souls roamed the streets, close to the solstice and under the bright full moon. Romano knew not to go out of the house no matter what, and not to open the door. Never. He knew that the procession of souls from purgatory may use any terrible trick to try to get you to let them in. He thought he knew better than to be tempted. He did not expect that the image that they would use to try to get him to invite them in would be the image of his best friend, and not so secret crush, frantically knocking on the door and calling his name in fear.

Romano bit his lip and shivered, every inch of his skin curling in horror at the pained sound in Antonio´s voice. Every fibre in him wanted to open, to protect him, to do anything it took to make the pain in those green eyes he saw through the keyhole go away. He couldn't though. He know that it was a trick, even if Antonio looked so real under the light of the single candle that illuminated Loving´s front porch that Romano could even smell the flower and sweet bread scent that always followed the baker's son. Antonio´s brow was split and oozing small amounts of blood still, as Romano had feared so deeply that they would be after the bastard that was his father entered stumbling in the small house that Antonio and his family shared.

Why would Antonio be out past midnight, on a full moon? Everybody knew not to even be awake those nights. Even the drunk and desperate knew to get home before midnight and lock every door and window! Being it was insane. Had the wife-beater of his father kicked Antonio out? In such a night? "No. No, it is a trick, it is a trick" Romano repeated to himself, closing his eyes and hands squeezing his clothes to keep them away from the door´s lock. He should walk inside, to the kitchen with his family, or to his room with his brother, but his feet refused to move.

"Roma!" the voice-oh the usually so sweet and lied back voice- called him, screamed, not giving a rat's ass who else he would wake up, not even in that night. The baker was a monster. He had been a monster before his wife died, he had been a monster before his eldest was taken by the Company of Soul, and after it all he became even worse. But risking sending his kid straight to purgatory by condemned souls and monstrous ghosts, sounded too horrible even for him to do! Then, a terrifying thought crossed Romano´s mind. Maybe the baker had heard about the kiss.

It had been an innocent thing, even if it had meant the world to them, stolen in the stables of Romano´s father that same morning, while Antonio was tending the horses to get some extra money. Romano had been thinking about it for weeks before he got the courage to actually do it. He had sneaked out of bed early. He had made his way to the stables when he thought nobody else would be up to see, tiptoed unnoticed towards the working boy and kissed him quickly on the lips. Then he had run away before his friend could even know what hit him. Romano had flown out of the stables and upstairs into the house, expecting thunder and lightning and divine rage to fall over him for doing such a unholy gesture.and for meaning it so much.

That didn't happen though, no thunder and no storm was unleashed outside. All he got from behind the closed door that communicated his house with the stable was silence. When he gathered enough courage to look back and peek through the door frame and back at the stable he found Antonio's eyes looking straight at him, because the bastard knew Romano so well that he knew he'd come back. Antonio was waiting, and when Romano opened the door he smiled. He smiled a smile that was meant to be reassuring and normal, but was a bit smaller than usual because it was suddenly shy, but hopeful, and happy, and those eyes were so full of sun. Romano´s heart had swollen in happiness. He had forgotten the fear of divine punishments.

He had forgotten arranged marriages and parents and everything. He had just kissed Toni and Toni had liked it! There was an unspoken promise in their smiles when Romano closed the door again and left Antonio to his chores as he sneaked back to bed before anyone suspected. Someone did suspect though. Romano didn't know how, but his parents learned about the kiss. The silent promise for the evening was not fulfilled, of course. He couldn't sneak out to see Antonio before dawn, he instead had the biggest the ugliest family argument he could even imagine. That is why his family was all at the other end of the house, and he had been here by the window. That is why they were all awake even at midnight, even on that day.

What if Toni´s father had heard about it as well? Maybe that is why he looked so badly hurt right now, more than usual. Maybe the baker heard about the kiss and the smile, and he had kicked Antonio into the street at midnight during the night of the Company of Souls on purpose! Maybe it wasn't a trick of the souls, maybe it was real Toni in real danger out there! "Roma! God Roma! Open! Please! Get out!" The voice reached him, the smooth suave taint completely wrecked by panic.

Lovino spied those big green eyes that were filled with absolute dread and forced himself to keep his hands away from the door handle. It was a trick. It was night of the souls today. He should not be awake to start with, his family should be asleep before midnight to avoid this temptations, but there had been a terrible fight that night, and they had all ended up unable to sleep, and- A hit on the window. Lovino caught a flash of Antonio´s face through the curtains. His face looked absolutely terrified as he watched at some point past Roma and before the Spaniard could even step away from the window Romano found himself yanking the door open and letting his friend in, souls from he'll be damned! He'd rather risk spending an eternity of pained wandering over the Earth as a tormented soul than to risk dooming the sweetest person on Earth to that fate!

The freezing wind snapped him on the face. He smelled the pestilence of the grave hitting his nose and heard the door behind opening too. He had made a mistake and now his family was doomed too! Thank God they would see on time and- He wants´t pushed into the house as he expected. His soul was not taken from his body and swirled around in a blasphemous twister of madness and confusion. He felt a very solid, very strong and real hand grab his forearm from outside the house and yank him out so hard that his feet left the ground. He stumbled forward and landed against a warm, solid, very alive chest. Antonio´s chest.

The other boy held him there as if he was never going to let go. He grabbed the Italian's shirt with strong fingers, threw his own cloak over Romano, and slammed the door of the house shut again. Fast. As fast as he could. Fast enought to escape danger, but not before Romano had time to see what was now entering his living room. Behind him, under the frame of the door that communicated living room and kitchen was a ghostly procession of half rotten, translucent bodies. His father and mother, now pale and translucent too, and his brother were at the forefront of the column, walking before the entranced form of one of his servants, that carried a large cross and guided the group of unread forward. He then realized that the stink of open graves he had smelled a second ago didn't come from the street, but from behind him, from his own house.

"Mom!" he cried out, eyes wide in horror when he recognized his family joining the march of ghosts. He tried to escape Antonio´s grip and stumble to open the door of his house again and reach his family, but Antonio wouldn't let him. The elder boy´s hand was on Romano mouth before he could even call his brother´s name. Antonio´s arms were like iron chains around him as he lifted him from the ground to keep him from going anywhere. The kid run back stumbling and crossed the narrow width of the street, getting both of them into his father´s bakery and closing the door. Antonio´s movements were too forced and too quick, and just after the door was shut and secured he tripped and fell on the ground, taking Romano down with him.

The younger boy fought to free himself, kicking and trying to bite Antonio´s hand off his mouth, but the Spaniard din´t let him go no matter what he did, holding him tighter and tighter against his chest. "Let me-mf!-go! I have to-" "You can't, Roma! It is too late!" The struggle continued, while Antonio did his best to explain himself. "I saw Feli open the back door from my window. They-they showed him some pasta he had never tried and-" he whispered as he wrestled with Lovino "I´m sorry I didn´t make it there on time. I tried. I really tried…You can't help them Roma. You can´t. It is too late!"

Eventually reality downed on Romano, and he broke down crying, clinging to Antonio´s ragged shirt for dear life, while his friend held him close to both comfort him and keep him from opening the door and going out. "I´m sorry, Roma. I can't let you open. I'm so sorry. I really am..." While Romano cried his eyes out, Antonio observed through the dirty window of the bakery how the procession of souls spread all through the Vargas´s house, taking everyone in it, and then walked back out in two orderly columns, calling everyone, knocking on doors to try to trick those who were still awake into opening their houses for them. Antonio heard them call his name. He heard their promises of sweets and new horses and a safe house to live in, where nobody would ever hit him anymore, but he didn't listen. He just tightened his hug and stroked his friend´s hair. He had everything he needed in his arms right now.

The only thing that worried him was to not fall asleep. If his father wake up from his drunken slumber and found Lovino here-worse, if he found them both like this- they were both death, literally, in very clear and non supernatural terms. So he had to keep an eye open all through the night to make sure to get Romano out the second the sun rose and the unread horrors vanished back into their graves. Maybe he would return Romano to his home. Roma had a large inheritance now after all, his father had horses and lands, he'd be alright. Maybe Antonio would run away himself after doing that, to avoid causing Romano more problems. Everyone knows that The Company looks for sinners and-maybe they had showed up at their village because of what happened this morning. Antonio had loved that, he-he didn't want to leave, not now! But it was the best. If he disappeared in the early dawn everyone would assume that the Company had taken him too. They would not search for him. Maybe that would be a good plan... Or maybe-Maybe Romano would want to come with him. He would never ask such a thing from him though, but-

He shook his head to get stupid illusions away from it. He'd leave his friend at home and then leave, when the sun rose. Until then, all he should focus on was on comforting the crying boy in his arms and on ignoring the voices of the death that would keep calling his name through the night. He distracted himself looking at the contorted faces of all the miserable souls that conformed the Company of Souls. His older brother was not among them. Just as Antonio had always suspected, his brother had not been taken by the ghosts, he had just run away, leaving him behind with the animal of their father. The bloody traitor.

One of the souls turned her head, attracted by the boiling hate darkening the heart of the boy at the other side of the door. Antonio met her eyes byt clenched his teeth and just helf his friend close, hiding his face by Romano´s crying body. There was nothing they could promise him to make him open the door, he swore to them both in silence, not even revenge.

* * *

We all know that Romano will have something to say about Toni´s plan tomorrow though !

-The landlady in my hotel swore that she knew a boy in the village who was supposedly taken by The Company. She also said that people suspected that the kid was actually killed by his father, whom was a piece of work and who would have hiden the body somewhere. It was the civil war so there was not much law enforcement around to check the story. As you notice, Antonio´s family life is based on said boy´s.  
-If you think The Company sounds similar to the legends of the Wildhount ...you are totally right!


	5. The Moorish Flagstone

There is truce between the Muslims and the Christians of the valley of Guada! To seal the truce kings and nobles from both kingdoms decide to share a joint celebration, in which Christian prince Lovino meets Arab prince Antonio.

* * *

...

Rodellar: **The Moorish Flagstone**

 **...**

The war between the Christian and Moor kingdoms of the valley had been long and bloody. The Christian king's army was exhausted, and the population and cities begged for peace. To make things worse the neighboring king of Navarre was pressure from the north and ready to jump on the exhausted kingdom´s lands, forcing the king to ask for a truce he really didn't want. "Ah!" The poor man lamented "If only one my sons was not a complete coward…!" But they both were. Feliciano and Lovino had the heart of a chicken, and they would not approach a Moorish soldier even at a yard´s distance. Seeing their princes stay at home safely or faint at the sight of blood didn't serve a leader or encouragement for the very exhausted knights, and the king was getting too old to lead himself. So, finally, the Christian nobles of the land had pushed their pride aside and asked their Arab neighbors for peace before all their kingdoms were thrown into rebellions and ruin.

The Moor kings of the area were as exhausted from the sustained war effort as their counterparts, and also had their own, terrible warfare against each other to worry about. So, as soon as the offer of truce came, they agreed to it wholeheartedly. People from all kingdoms in the valley sighed in relief once the news spread. Peace at least! Or, close enough. To make things official both sides decided to celebrate the end of bloodshed-even if temporary- with a week´s long festivity in the Christian King´s castle that was meant to bring both peoples together and, hopefully, create a long-lasting truce that allowed them to forget war for a couple of decades. Loving, the eldest of the two Christian princes, knew that there was no way on Earth he'd be able to avoid socializing this time. His father was making sure that all his knights and And servants attended, as well as his two sons of course. He would not risk any action that the Muslims could take as a disrespect or an insult, and the absence of a prince was certainly susceptible of such interpretation. Felicia no was delighted, of course, but Felicia no was an idiot who everyone loved.

On the first day of the festivities, Prince Loving found himself standing by his father and gazing at the endless parade of unfamiliar characters that were flooding in and being welcomed into their castle. Arabs, Syrians and even Berbers left their weapons outside the door and flooded into the hall, in their colorful outfits and flashy silks. The spectacle the Arabs and their subjects offered was worthy of admiration, all of them covered in jewels and clothes from India. The stubborn prince was determined to not be impressed by the flamboyant wealth of those godless barbarians. His determination was broken though, not by silks from India or by Baltic Amber, but by the two green eyes, deep like the sea, that stared right into his, playful. Lovino straightened and closed his fist around the hilt of his sword, even though he had no idea of how to use it. he didn't like that man´s commanding attitude, or his shit eating white grin. He makes sure that he looked manly and imposing and made it clear that he was not there to make friends with infidels, but the Arab prince just smiled at him, amused, and continued his way. Loving knew who that green-eyed man was, he had recognized the Arab´s clothes and his coat of arms. Lovinohad heard so much about him that he had grown to hate him before even meeting him. He was the prince of the Moors, soon to be king, and the son his father wished he had. He was all that Feliciano and Lovino were not. He was tall, strong, fierce, smart as a leader and fearless as a warrior. People said that he was so strong that he could cut rock with his hands and was an excellent craftsman. Really, how much can a single person fucking suck? Of course, Lovino´s father was not the only one who spoke in awe of the bastard.

Lovino had heard his knights and friends, who should adore him, talk about the damned Arab prince with panic in their eyes. They spoke about his skill with weapons as if they spoke about a supernatural storm. Lovino knew that the smiling stranger had more christian blood on his hands that anyone else in the room, but still, isn't there nobility in any warrior that fulfills his duty to his God and king properly, no matter who those God and kings happen to be? "Wrong thought!" Lovino corrected himself, frustrated. He forced himself to ignore the green eyes and their owner, and hid behind Feliciano´s constant chatter. As far as Feli was talking far too much to let Lovino even open his mouth, he´d stay out of trouble. He forced himself to remain silent, dark and invisible for the entire dinner, until the desserts came and some moron or another decided that it was time to play riddles. Loving was good at that. He considered himself smart, even though nobody wanted to hear what he had to say anyway, but still he had planned on remaining as silent and anonymous as before. When all the old stupid riddle everyone knew and had no merit had been said, and people started making up their own, the wheat started to get separated from the chaff, and Loving started to fall loosely interested in the conversation. The green-eyed Arab made a riddle of his own then. It was his first intervention in the entire riddle competition, and he left everyone silent. The knights of Lovino´s father looked to the floor or their food in embarrassment, trying to become invisible, and the Muslims laughed discreetly behind their hands. The green-eyed prince was sporting a cocky grin already, when Lovino spoke, confidently giving the right answer to him. The Moor prince looked at the christian prince in surprise, . Their eyes locked, and neither was able to look away from then on.

"You are correct, " He said, his voice raspy with the golden sands of the dessert, his grin fading to give way to something more intense.

"I know." Lovino answered, swallowing the lump in his throat and hiding his fluttering heart under a facade of aloof indifference.

"My turn, I guess?" Lovino gave another question, which made the entire room go silent.

The entire room, except of course the grinning bastard that was his rival, who gave the right answer after no more than a couple of minutes of silent consideration, and gave his new question back. They went back and forth at each other, neither giving way. By the end of the dinner it was as if there was nobody else in the room. From that night on they spent every waking moment together. It started discrete, as a preference while speaking with people in the large hall, but it soon became obvious. Loving showed his favorite books to the Arab and was surprised about the appreciation and sensitivity he showed. The Moor prince showed his Christian friend his hunting Raptors and horses, and was surprised at how quickly the wild animals knew that they could trust Loving.

"The white one likes you better." The tan man joked with the christian prince, who was caressing the animal's forehead "he is usually scared of everyone but me."

"He has better taste than the others." Loving teased, sticking his tongue out to the black horse that was enjoying his owner´s caressing on that warm evening, while everyone else celebrated and ate still for the third day in a row.

"Animals are good at judging what is in the hearts of people."

"Is that part of your dessert-barbarian crappy wisdom?"

"Well, if it isn't part of your mountain-dwelling wisdom too I must question your judgment." The Arab retorted lightly, making Lovino smirk and shake his head.

More days and moments went by. Lovino confessed that he didn't know how to use a sword and the one in his belt was just for show, the green-eyed Arab confessed that he was terrified of closed spaces and got really sad whenever he felt like his horses didn't like him. Lovino talked about how useless he felt and how nothing seemed to matter, the other confessed how he felt that the second he made a single mistake everyone around him would abandon him said that he got some guilty pleasure from screaming at people and feeling powerful, Antonio said that he loved puppies and birds. They both liked horse riding, to read, and to cook. They both played string instruments. Lovino made the other get serious, the other made Loving laugh. On the day before the end of the celebrations, when the Arab prince was going to say bye to his beloved friend he saw Lovino slapping one of his guards. Confused, the Arab asked why.

"Do you know what this bastard had been saying around?"

" No. What?"

"He, he, he! He said that you! That you desire- He is insulting your honor dammit! And mine! And if I see his ugly face once more-"

"What if he is right?"

"Oh, Goddammit!" The Arab turned and left calmly from where he had come. The next night, after his prayers, the green-eyed prince heard some knocking on the door of his room. When he opened, he found Loving there, dressed to ride with high boots and sword in belt-the sword the young man had privately confessed to the other that he didn't know how to use. Loving carried two bags over his shoulder. One was full, the other was empty.

"You said that wealth and richness are not important to you" the christian spat, nonchalantly, looking fiercely into the Arab´s eyes,

"You said that your inheritance doesn't mean a thing for you."

"Yes, I did."

"Is it true?"

"Yes."

"Well! Mine doesn´t matter shit to me either! So-here! I´ll get the horses ready, " he threw the empty bag at the Arab and turned around, but the other grabbed his arm and made him turn again. The Christian prince found himself under the exhaustive scrutiny of those green eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. They were so serious for once!

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" The Arab asked. Loving nodded, almost offended.

"Yes."

"If we leave, we will confirm their suspicions. Do you understand what that would mean?" Loving yanked his arm free, angrily, and looked at the other with flame and fear in his eyes.

"Look jackass! I'm a coward, alright? I have spent all my bloody life avoiding fights! Avoiding weapons! I am even scared of heights for Christ's sake! And I'm suggesting this and about to get two fucking entire armies chasing after me! How fucking sure do you think I have to be for that?" The Arab felt a proud, adoring smirk takes over half of his face, and he bowed.

"Very well, my prince. I won't keep you waiting long."

"You better don't!"

The Christian prince barked, terrified behind his thoughtless act, before disappearing downstairs. Less than half an hour later two horses galloped together into the night and across the forests that surrounded the castle. They had to make it out of the valley and across the mountain range of Guava that locked both of their kingdoms before their parents, and armies, found out about it. If they made it past the mountain tops they would be free. The chase started far sooner than what they would have wished. Their long-legged horses were fast like the wind and their prosecutors didn't stand a chance to capture them, but that didn't keep them from sending both knights and bowmen after both princes. Loving and his soon-to-be lover found themselves under a rain of arrows, a technique perfected by Lovino´s people. Clenching their teeth and eyes, they continued forth, praying each one to their deity for the arrows to miss them.

When they had almost made it to the top and were sheltered the strange and twisted shapes of the mountain rocks, he stopped his horse and turned his head just in time to watch his beloved prince drop dead from the horse who stood beside his. The back of his clothes was stained red. A single, solitary arrow had pierced through his back and into his heart. The Arab prince buried his beloved there, with his bare hands, no longer interested in making it through the few yards that separated him from the border of their kingdoms and from freedom and life. He dragged large rocks and built a rudimentary mausoleum around his fallen lover, similar to those he had seen christian build for their dead kings. When he was done, he turned around to fight the soldiers that had been chasing them. He allowed them to kill him, but before that he made sure to take every single man, Moor or Christian, who had bow and arrows down to hell him-since, after those actions, neither God would have him. The green-eyed prince want´t buried, and his body was left for the beasts, but the dolmen he builds to honor his lover is still standing by the mountain´s hill. The locals call it The Dolmen of the Moorish Flagstone. Legend says that anyone who tries to remove it, or even sell merchandise nearby will be chased and, if not fast enough, beaten senseless by a ghostly figure in punishment for their disrespect. Which one of the two princes that figure belongs to is unknown.

...

* * *

-The Dolmen of the Moorish Flagstone (Dolmen de la Losa Mora) is a Neolithic funerary structure in the Guada Mountains.  
-Originally in the legend the characters were king and princess of course, not two princes. The description of their romance is made up, the story only says that they fell in love and decided to escape...and how it all went.


	6. The Princess of the Ibon Lake

Spain knows that Romano has some jealousy issues, but this is just ridiculous!  
Canonnverse  
Featuring Spain and Romano.

* * *

...

San Juan de Plan: **The "Moor" Princess of the Ibon-Lake**

...

"Romano! Let me out!"

"No!"

"By God! Roma! This is absurd!"

"Just in case!"

"I'm not going to marry any Charmed Moorish Princess that appears to me at dawn!Let me out!"

"How do I know that? Huh? You marry anything that moves!"

"Austria was different!" Antonio exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and then slamming them against the door of his room, now turned into his prison. At the other side of the door Romano has blocking the lock, or doing God knows what else to make sure he couldn´t get out, and he knew he was too high to use the window.

"Yeah! And what about Portugal? And Holland! And Netherlands! And Feliciano! And me! And México! And Bolivia! And Chile! And New Granada! And-You are not going out, dammit all!" Romano felt his voice about to crack and decided to end the list of Spain's past husbands, wives, and ex lovers in general half-way through.

He had barely started it and his body was already shaking. So he clenched his teeth, dug his hills deeper into the stone and pressed his back harder against the door. It had been hard times for young Romano, back then. Really hard times. Seeing his boss hang out with that endless string of lovers and spouses, many at a time most of the time. Seeing himself just one of many...and just a minor partner at that, and sometimes not even... It had hurt. Romano´s heart was still scared from those centuries, far beyond repair, even if he didn't want to bring it up and tried to bear the pain and insecurity in silence. He understood that it hadn't been Spain´s fault. It was the way in which the Augsburg made politics, by uniting kingdoms under the same crown dynastic ally, and Spain had been just a property of them to be traded and married to their convenience. He understood...but the memory still burned. It hurt so much! The Hispano-Americans had been the worse. They were married to Spain for more than any other two nations ever had, to his knoweldge. Over four hundred years! And...what was their own relationship compared to that?. Barely three hundred years in which Romano had been a complete brat, followed by silence and distance and-

Romano bit his lip and shook his head. If he allowed his thoughts to continue that way he'll fall into a downward spiral he´ll not be able to abandon in days, and he didn't want that. Because then, he would have to tell Spain, and would make him feel guilty, and Romano didn't want that because those years, those marriages and Romano´s stupid traumas and nightmares were not Spain's damn fault! He had no choice, l dammit! But still... It was beyond his control. He just couldn't push the panic and the pain away, the flashbacks even. He knew he was not being rational, but he couldn't help it. "Romano, you are being ridiculous...again!" "I know!" he barked, because he did know.

"I-am-not-going-to-marry-anyone! And there is a celebration to prepare! I need to purify! Let me out!" "I´ll let you out at noon! Until then, you stay here!"

"She only appears to those pure of heart!" Spain tried to reason, even though it was not in a very reason-friendly voice, more like a roar " I am not pure of heart, just let me out before I knock the door down!"

"You will drop the door on me if you do! Would you risk doing that, huh?"

" Oh! For the love of-"

"Besides, she has appeared to you before! You do have a pure heart, bastard, and we both know it."

"Yes, she has." Antonio admitted. The beautiful moor princess, in delicate silks, that walked out of the Ivone lake with the first golden rays of the sun kissed the water surface, and walked around the villages of the Pyrenees looking for a husband has appeared to Spain more than once, while he was washing his body on the dew fields, in preparation for the night when he and the other young men of the Pyrenee would dance the fire and offer it to the souls of the dead " But I did not marry her, did I? "

"Just in case! You are staying in until the night and that's the end of it!"

Lovino wasn´t risking it. He coudn´t. It wasn´t the jealousy itself what had him crazed with fear every Sain John´s night Spain chose to spend in this lands. Romano was a jealous lover, he knew that and he knew that it wasn´t healthy. he fought against his jealousy with all he got, he really did! He understood that his insecurity was his problem, not Antonio´s, and tried his very best to not burden his lover with jealous displays or fits like this one. He usually succeeded. If Spain wanted to go out late Romano woudn´t say a thing; he would bite his nails down to the knuckle, he would pace the entire house and he would be tormented by images of his lover kissing a string of extremely handsome strangers from the minute Spain left to the minute he came back, but Romano would still say nothing because his insanity wasn´t Spain´s fault. If France looked at Spain in just that way and Antonio still decided to keep being friends with him-then Romano would find a damn way of dealing with it. He´d get over his memories of Spain´s many marriages and remind himself that Toni wasn´t his property as many times as he had to. If it was only the fear of Spain cheating on him with a beautiful magical princess, or finding someone else to mary, or forgetting Romano forever then-then Roma would find the strenght to deal with it somehow. Those were about his worst fears: being cheated on, betrayed, abandoned, not being good enough, seeing the one he loved mary someone else yet again...He would conquer all those fears for Antonio, he did it every day. But this fear was different, this was his biggest fear, so big he had never found the courage to express it outloud, not even to his lover. He was afraid of losing Spain, not as a lover, or as a friend, or as a nation, but completely and forever.

He would never feel entitled to lock his lover up otherwise. He had no right to do it. He didn't own Spain and if the man wanted to go off and marry some supernatural princess-well, he had the right to do it. It would tear Romano in half, as it still did every time Spain smiled to anyone else, and he got taken back to those days of misery, but Spain had the right to do it. Romano would accept the pain and take it, and if Spain changed his mind and came back he would welcome hima s he ahd before because -because Toni was worth the pain. Dammit! he was already risking losing his lover by locking him up, h eknew it! Antonio was beyond furious with him, he may decide that this was the last straw and break up with him and send Romano to hell and-The Italian clenched his teeth to try and keep a broken sob from escaping. His eyes got wet and itchy just by thinking about it. Antonio was mad at him right now. Not just mad, beyond furious. Antonio was patient but he had some lines he would not allow his lover to cross and clearly locking him up on a room in a jealousy fit was one of them. Romano was playing with fire and the panic of knowing it didn´t let him breathe, but he coudn´t-he coudn´t risk it. He could take many things but not...that.

On Saint John´s night a beautiful Moor Princess emerged from the Ibon-lake of Plan, stars in her eyes and the purity of the mountain springs in her soul, and went out to find a husband. She showed herself to those men pure of heart that were following the purification rituals in the mountain tops and asked them to mary her. That wasn´t the part Romano had a problem with. The problem was that, if they accepted, she took them to her cave up in the mysterious hills were druids used to perform secret rites, and after that nobody saw them again. They disappeared from the face of the Earth, probably taken down to the land of the dead to help the Sun God in his battles in the underworld. Maybe they just died. Nobody knew, and Romano didn't care either. The point is that they might die, and he was not risking it. Jealousy was strong for him, and the scars of the years he had been powerlessly witnessing Spain rotate lovers run deep in him, but that pain he could take.

It was not Spain marrying someone else-again. It was the fear of him disappearing from the world, dying, gone forever at the hands of some supernatural entity of the lakes what Romano couldn't bare. Spain being seduced, abandoning him and being happy with someone else? Romano could force himself to take that, even if he probably couldn´t survive it. Spain being seduced and then being killed?No. Nonononono. That he-he coudn´t. Never. No! That was more than he could take.

...

* * *

Happy Saint John! You may want to fing thr Ibon Lake of Plan in g-Images, it is beautiful!

And thanks to EpicGlom and Yuri for the comments! And sorry about the grammar.


	7. News from the Estadea

Zamora: **News From the Estadea**

He thought that the pain in his abdomen was nothing to worry about, but it seems that he had been wrong. He had resisted it at first, denied it, tried to fool himself, but the road back home was long and the image had been clear. He wasn´t denying things anymore. He was accepting it. This time, at his return from picking up wood in the mountain, Lovino did not carefully fold his cloak and hanged him a she usually did. He didn't go right way to cook a humble but delicious meal for himself and his family. He just threw his things on the table and run like hell towards the city of Zamora, feeling a courage in him he didn´t know he posessed. He crossed the central square, elbowing his way until he found Antonio among the multitude, carrying his heavy load of fruit to sell.  
Lovino launched himself towards him, no matter who was looking, no matter that they were in front of the church, in front of the priest, of Antonio´s parents, of the entire damn village. He tackled the other and kissed him like his life depended on it, devouring him in a desperate gesture that didn't even give the other tie to react. Lovino didn´t know if the opening in the Antonio´s mouth had been a gasp of surprise or a reaction to him. Probably both. It didn't matter anymore.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. I will always love you. Fucking remember that." he breathed hurriedly. The pain in his abdomen was great, but for a second he forgot about it.

He freed his victim and run off again, pushing anyone who dared cross his way, back to his house.  
Antonio, an den the entire village, was left at a complete loss of words. The green eyed boy might have gotten in trouble with his neighbours for his participation in that kiss if he didn´t look as honestly shocked and confused as he did. He had no idea of what had just happened. He liked it, he had loved the secretive shepherd since they were kids and his heart was racing madly, but his mind couldn't catch up. He had no idea that-It wasn't meant to- they could be hanged if- What on Earth was Lovino thinking?

 _The Estadea looks like a woman with no face. She appears in roads and outside villages to let travelers know that their death is near. If you see her it means that you are going to die very soon._


	8. Lovino and the Cats of Madrid

Thank you EpicGlompDinoGirl15 for the comments! And I agree, Tonio isn´t gonna b happy when he founds out what was up in the prevois story!

AU: Cityzen of Arab-ruled Madrid, Lovino, can´t sleep. Something supernatural comes to his window.

Featuring Antonio and Lovino.

* * *

...

Madrid: **Lovino and the Cats of Madrid**

...

He had tried praying. He had tried walking around. He had tried lying down. He had tried reading, even though that was a waste of oil and his grandfather would be less than happy to hear that he found no better use for such a valuable product than to burn it down on a sleepless night. For Allah that Loving didn't know what else to try! His insomnia, it seems was there to stay. Maybe it was the rumors of war that got him restless.

With a sight, he woke from his bed and walked idly towards the window to open the curtain covering it and look at the sleeping city of Madrid, her tall tower packed with guards, her silent streets, and he solemn walls who sparkled with fire when hit by arrows. Or that was the thought. When he opened the window though he found a huge smile taking over his field of vision. He jumped back, biting in a yelp, stumbled, and fell to the ground. By the time he managed to rise back and blink the last leftovers of his sleepiness away, hoping that the floating apparition would leave with it, he found a green-eyed young man kneeling on his window shelf.

The stranger smiled wide at him, as if being found looking through the window of a third floor by a fortress, clinging miraculously from the small tends of the wall, was the most normal occurrence in life.

"Hello, my friend!" the green-eyed climbing creature saluted, with a happy and bright smile, jumping to the window shelf for comfort.

"What are you doing here?" Loving barked, trying to hide his surprise with anger.

"Me? I came to see you, of course" The young man answered smoothly. Loving opened and closed his mouth.

"Who are you?" He managed to spit, after heroic efforts. The other gave him a charming, feline smile and swung himself in the room.

"I think you know that too." The stranger cooeid with a smile that was not from this world "What do I look like?"

Lovino looked down, blushing slightly.

"Well! I don't know!"

" But you do. Look into your heart my friend. Who could reasonably be perched on your window at this ungodly hour?"

Was he sleeping? Yes, either that or something heavy and fallen on his head. He examined the young man in front of him, so perfectly proportioned, who had come practically come into his room by walking on the wall, with strong slender muscles and those eyes who just couldn't be human…

"A Jinni?" he deduced finally, willing himself to look away and failing. The Jinni chuckled.

"Exactly! Very smart of you" he agreed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms " and I guess you now know why I came, right?"

"You are going to grant me a wish?" The jinni looked a bit surprised, probably due to how fast Lovino had answered. Ha! Did that bastard think Lovino was´t smart?

"H-hm!" The jinni agreed finally. Loving didn't need to be said twice, he jumped out of bed.

"I want a mountain of gold! And I want that blonde idiot who lives across the street to be buried under it, so he dies slowly and painfully while I sit on my gold! And I want-"

"Hey, hey, hey!" the jinni stopped him "I'm a low class jinni, okay? I can't do all those things. I can only grant you small wishes. Like a dagger, or a sword, or things like that." Loving scowled and looked dejected. What kind of luck was his? He got a super sexy jinni, and he had to turn out to be a third class peasant who couldn't even- The mysterious man must have read his mind though, or maybe he was remembering the way in which the young, sleepless Arab had checked him out shamelessly when he irrupted in his room. Either way, the stranger smirked in a way that wouldn't mean anything good. ".or a kiss. I can give you a kiss, too. What do you say?"

Jump off the window moron!´is what he wanted to say, but he kind of couldn't, because the idea suddenly felt much better than a dagger or a sword or...damn he was blushing! He clenched his fists, this was wrong, but he had been curious for so long.

He answered something unintelligible, mumbling under his breath. The jinni rose a brow, to indicate that he had not heard a thing. Loving burst.

"I said that it better be the best fucking kiss I've gotten in my fucking life, you cheap bastard!" The jinni looked a bit taken aback by the outburst. He had been obviously joking. How embarrassing was that? But then he bit his lip to keep the laughter in, playful sparks in his eyes, so mischievous that Loving felt like he was about to be set on fire. The man walked slowly towards the poor Italian who was just standing there, immobilized by the tension.

"Your order is my command then" the young man whispered over his lips, and leaned forward, moving Loving closer just by the electric power of the tips of his fingers on the Arab´s back and neck. First their lips brushed. Then he found himself wrapped in the arms firmly, a tongue in his mouth and hot lips taking all of his mind over.

The room started swirling, and his body came alive. He saw color, s he saw stars, he got his mind swirling in circles and by the time he was allowed to drop on the bed he knew he had a lot of things to question as soon as the room stopped spinning. The green-eyed creature chuckled again, giving him a somehow endeared but cocky smile, and went back to the window, disappearing up, if propelled by arms in his climb or floating, Loving didn't know. He could barely remember his own name, let alone the laws of gravity.

He let himself back on the bed, and among the colors and the taste in his mouth he didn't resent just lying there and let his skin tingle and the hours go by. It felt like the goddamned bells woke him up right the second he had closed his eyes! Why the fuck he always had the same prob-.

Wait.

The city was under Arab rule.

The church didn't have bells.

They didn't toll.

They had not tolled in over three centuries.

Bells only tolled in Christian ruled cities.

Madrid was not one.

What the hell was going on?!

He darted out of the bed and took half of his body out of the window, looking with incredulity the tower of the little church his neighbors were allowed to keep. It had bells on it now, which it shouldn't. When Loving looked around he realized that he was watching a change of government. Castilian troops were in the places where the sultan´s troops would usually be. The sultan of the city could be seen in the balcony of his palace, unarmed like his guards, and surrounded by armed christian knights who were conducting them out. He looked around. How had they gotten in? The walls of the city were solid and impossible to cross. The city with walls of fire Madrid was called. How could they…?

"They climbed the walls!" he heard one of his neighbors say "They climbed the walls at night and took the guard out! They climbed silently and opened the gates!"

For all hell! How could they?

He then had a dark, terrible premonition. He felt his stomach drop looked, wearily, to the Alcazar, the fortress that controlled the walls with groups of Christian soldiers in the balconies and who shared a wall with his own home. Among the strangers gathered in the balcony with their crosses on white background. There he found, on a balcony along with the rest of the troops, almost immediately, the jinni. The bastard had been looking his way and even had the nerve to be staring at him. When Loving turned, the other had the nerve to wink an eye at him.

"So, it seems like we are going to be neighbors, after all" The bastard chirped at him from the window, cocky smile on his face. For a fraction of a second, Loving´s sleepy brain thought that the Christians had found the jinni and asked him to bring them in by opening the gates, or made them float over the walls, but his common sense quickly caught up with him as he looked over at the bastard's uniform, at the-

"You were climbing the Alcazar's wall! You son of a bitch!" he barked, red with shame and rage all of a sudden. The green-eyed soldier just laughed easily.

"Oh! C´mon! Don´t be so dramatic! It won't change your life that much. Besides, we will get to know each other a bit better!"

"Why would I want to know more about a lying bastard like you?

"Oh. Well, you know, since you bought my lie and considered your wish granted..." The Castilian smiled at him cockily leaning on one elbow "I´m guessing that it was the best you ever had. Am I wrong?"

The poor young man felt his face catch fire, he didn´t know if due to rage or to excitement.

* * *

According to the legend, in the XI century, a group of Castilian soldiers took the city by silently climbing the almost smooth wall at night, "like cats", and opening the gates for the rest. The city practically went to sleep with one ruler and woke up with another. The guys that climbed the walls were nicknamed "the cats" by their companions, and eventually the nickname "cats" spread to everyone living in the city. That is why -accordint to legend- people from Madrid are called "cats" in Spain now.


	9. How to Preserve your Rituals

Canonverse: Spain and France have been celebrating this yearly ritual since they can remember and have no intention to stop doing so. The Pope sends Romano to check if their ritual is properly Christian or some pagan insanity. They both know that is bad news. Good thing that Francis has a plan.

This isn´t a legend as much as a tradition, but it is an old one. I really wanted to make a story with the tradition behind this rituals but...there is just not one, I could find any It seems to be one of those tings so deep and old that are not seen as needing an origin or an explanation at all!

Featuring: Spain, France, Romano

* * *

...

San Jaun De Plan **: How to preserve your Rituals, by Francis Bonnefoy**

...

Romano entered the grass fields with his head high that morning. He tried to get his awkward thirteen years old body to show as much authority as he possibly could. He was on a mission to the Pope, and most importantly, he had the chance of getting the dirt on both Spain and France and come out like a great nation in comparison, to the eyes of the pope and his grandpa. He would not give that chance away!

It was the XI century. The Gregorian reformation was in full swing and the Pope had heard some very distressing rumors about those two hooligans practicing pagan rituals and rolling naked on grass fields. His holiness had some serious suspicions about Spain don't quite grasp the difference between Sun Gods and Christs, not even at this age, and about France grasping it very well, but not giving a fuck when it comes to parting with his sexy neighbor. That pervert! Romano´s face heated up just by imagining that scumbag´s blue eyes running over Spain´s naked body as they both rolled on the fresh grass to purify themselves before the rite, droplets of dew running through tanned skin and-That was unholy dammit! And pagan, but most unholy! And perverted! Very perverted! The only water one should be allowed to purify in was the holy water from a church, dropped by some very ugly priest on people fully clothed! Babies if possible! Certainly not sexy teens stark naked in the middle of the mountain wilderness, rolling on grass or swimming on springs were allowed!

His underwear was getting a bit tight just by thinking about it, so he scowled severely at everything around him to compensate.

A hundred feet behind him, France leaned his stupidly grown up human body against a half dressed Spain and whispered in his ear as he looked at Romano from time to time. They were probably talking about him, Romano thought, but he didn't care! He was there on a mission from the pope, and he was going to fulfill it! Their day had barely started, and he already had so much to report!

"We are screwed" Spain declared quietly to his friend, with displeased eyes. It was no secret why Romano was here." he won't fall for the trick of moving the right to the backyard of the church. Should we pretend and not do the entire dance this time? Maybe he'll be tricked by that…"

"You don't seem very happy with that idea" France mentioned. Antonio furrowed his brow deeper.

"I am not" As opposed to France, the aspects of the ritual related to sending warmth and hope to those suffering at the other side of death was still important to him, the idea of failing to do so made him beyond restless. Besides, this was his land and his mountain and his backyard! Why did he have to give any explanations to some Pope guy in Rome?

France was studying the situation, or to be precise, he was studying Romano. There wasn't anything there he didn't know about already though, he was just confirming one of those things everyone knew.

"Oh, well...then don't worry mon ami. I don't think we have to do that."

"So, war with Rome? " Spain suggested. "That is a bit too much, don't you think?"

France laughed and shook his head. He knew that the Italian was listening to them, pretending to be all interested in a bunch of daisies that grew in the middle of the tall grass. France chuckled to himself, sadistically, and leaned closer to Antonio to whisper his plan in his ear. The Spaniard smirked, half interested and half amused, and looked at the other teen.

"Oh! C´mon! You are kidding!"

"I am not" France insisted. Spain looked at Romano, not very discreetly, and then back at his friend.

"He is a kid. I don't think that would work."

France looked at Romano, reminding himself to not be too obvious with his words since he was probably being overheard, and then back at Spain again.

"Trust me, it will work. He has had a crush on you for forever."

"He is thirteen, who has crushes at thirteen?"

"Everyone but you?" Spain laughed; France patted his shoulder affectionately " Trust me, just do as I said." Spain rolled his eyes with a smile, faking exhaustion, but accepted.

"Okay-But if we are going to try that, shouldn't we start already? That way we can convince him to leave before the really problematic stuff starts"

"Oh, nonono! That wouldn't work. It is better how I said." Spain looked at France, unconvinced. The plan didn't fully click for him, but he knew that France knew how to handle people, so he decided to follow his lead, for now. After all, there was always time for war if needed.

The two teens looked at Romano, mean smirks in his eyes. The young nation huffed and turned away, too proud for that shit. So, the two sit-eating friends were talking about him, and looking all close and friendly, and being part of some secret he was not invited to share. See if he cared! He was a proper, christian nation who didn't need a thing from anyone! Let alone from Spain! Or the other douche bag! He had no interest in sharing anyone with any of them at all!

With this thought playing in his head over and over again, and a deep scowl plastered on his face for self reassurance, he devoted himself to observe and take mental note of the developments of the rest of Saint John´s day.

When he had seen all those young French and Spaniards naked in the morning air, France and Spain very much included, dew dripping down Spain's muscles and deliciously tanned skin, and he played with the tall grass that grow up to his waist and that was soaked by the condensation of the humid mountain air... Romano just couldn't believe it. He had covered his eyes with his hands immediately, while that pack of idiots sprinkled water to each other with their fingers and wrestled with each other and laughed so brightly nothing else could be heard in the valley-Romano had been looking through his fingers all the time, and his underwear had grown seven sizes smaller with the way Spain´s eyes sparkled with joy and everything else in his body sparkled with water drops, but that was another issue. The point is that, by God, he had a lot to report already.

After the "purifying" rite, the two fifteen year olds and their people dressed themselves with the bare minimum and devoted themselves to collecting branches and wood from suspiciously specific species of tree. Antonio was sweating with the work under the sun, shirt off. Lovino felt his young body enthusiastically cheering for the amazing job puberty was doing with the Spaniard´s form. After such an obscene and clearly unchristian spectacle, France and Spain went each to their side of the mountains, close to the mountain fence that separated their backyards, and put the wood all together on all together on top a hill that rose various kilometers over the river. In some of the hills they were building pyres on the two heathens had bothered themselves with building a hermit, just to keep appearances, but in many they had not even done that. Lovino scowled and followed them, complaining about Spain´s sudden lack of interest on wearing a shirt.

They both waited until complete dark fell over the land, winking at each other and ignoring Romano as if he was a fly -not that he cared if he had Spain´s attention or not anyway, older kids never pay attention to you if you are younger than them. Which was fine, because he didn't care. He was on a mission. He was also not wondering if Spain was cold, his nipples were hard so the idiot obviously was. Not that Romano was paying attention at that idiot. Why would he? The idiot was clearly too content with ignoring Romano and laughing with his friend in France. He could go to hell. Who needed him anyway?

When darkness fell, they lighted up gigantic fires that could be seen from miles away. They sang and danced around them. They jumped over them, the heat from the fire making their bodies sweat, drops of water dripping down after them too many jumps had happened, just like the dew had dripped in the morning. It was exhausting just to see them, but they all seemed too happy and bright to even feel exhaustion. For a second Romano wished that he could join-that Spain would ask him to-but again, the idiot was too busy dancing with people his own age to notice the dark, gloomy Italian.

At midnight, they took torches and lighted them on the fire they had been running and dancing around. Then, the lot of them turned towards the very dangerous, very dark downhill of the mountain that lead to the river and started a race, torches in hand, running in the dark. Romano almost screamed, those guys were going to trip and fall and die in a ball of fire for sure! But they didn't. The race along with their people, each carrying a torch and after dancing for over an hour. Their race made trails of light in the mountain side, as if the fire was crying and letting small teardrops fall over the river, where the village and the church were. And more importantly, where the cemetery was. For a second Romano feared they would set fire to the church, but what they dd looked worse. They set fire to the graves.

Well, not exactly, it was s very organized issue, but it didn't feel any less wrong to the poor Italian, who was about to have a heart attack. His eyes didn't leave the shinny point in the dark that was Antonio for an instant. The total heathen, and his barbarians entered the cemetery, torch in hand, and much to Romano´s horror gathered all the burning torches into a pyre. In the cemetery. On the graves, and let it burning there, hugging each other´s sweaty form and congratulating each other for the race, as they made their way back up, to keep dancing and celebrating by the main fire all through the night. By the end of it all, Romano was horrified. He had been left alone-and lonely-for the entire festivity, to observe and criticize and make the sign of the cross over himself over and over again, and now that it was all over he was running the heck away and informing the Pop, before any of this heathenism ended up rubbing into him.

Before though, he wanted to confront those two morons, to give them a piece of his mind. They should be so ashamed of themselves! He would start by teaching them the damn concept of wearing shirts´ and then would pick up from there! Oh, they were so so busted!

Good thing that those morons were going towards him, soaked in their own sweat from dancing and running and playing with fire, black strings of ash through their faces and torso, and laughing with sparkly eyes as if they had just had the best time of their lives. He was going to shout at them until the last bit of joy abandoned those stupid, heretic faces!

He was!

He was getting a deep breath to ensure the power of his voice! And then Spain spoke faster.

"Lovi! I was looking for you!" The Spaniard exclaimed, and Lovino kind of forgot about what he was doing.

Spain stumbled forth towards him, pushed slightly by France. Romano noticed France making a gesture to Spain, and winking. He caught some meaningful look between both of them, and he was about to yell at the idiots that they better stop whatever they were planning! But then he found himself with an armfull of Spaniard. And not any armfull of Spaniards, oh no. Spain was nacked from waist up, his skin hot from jumping over fire and carrying torches, and covered with drops of sweat that made it shine. His blood was still pumping under the skin and his muscles were swollen and deliciously marked due to the recent exercise, and now they were all around Lovino´s body in a loose embrace that was taking the poor Italian´s breath away. And Spain´s eyes, oh Lord! they sparkled playfully, his entire face glowing with joy and with the euphoria of the exercise and the dancing and the music, and all those stains of ash decorating his body and cheeks only served to accentuate how handsome and innocent and...and happy he looked.

There he was! The insensitive bastard Lovino couldn't help adoring, who had the prettiest smile, best ass and biggest heart in the world all combined, was hugging him and getting his sweat and ash and hot skin all over. Spain was not ignoring him because Lovino was too young! He was not horsing around with France and Prussia like always. No. He was hugging him. And to totally eradicate any coherent thought that the poor Italian could have left in his mind, the bastard gave him a noisy, enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. Just like that. Just like if it wasn't a big thing. So noisy Romano couldn't hear his thoughts anymore. They were just made out of star and color now.

"Thanks for keeping our secret Roma! You are the best!"

And just like that, Spain left along with France, leaving Lovino like a deer in headlights, body tingling and stupid smile forming on his face. He didn't even see the complicit smirk France and Spain gave each other right over his head, or the thumbs up the blonde gave to his friend as they walked away. All that the poor, infatuated Italian could notice was that his body was too alive, his face on fire, and his blood boiling with far too many embarrassing sensations. As soon as his knees felt steady enough he run away from that place, afraid he may give into the embarrassing desires he was starting to feel and make a fool out of himself.

But he said that you are the best!

The thought as he run made his face redden even more, and painted a stupid, embarrassing, little smile on his face.

On his return to Vatican city, the words of Spain, his cheerful tone, his bright eyes when he said that he was the best´, and that kiss on the cheek were still taking over the poor, lovesick teenager´s brain. He even felt a tinny, foolish amber of hope light up in his chest, a little voice telling him that maybe he wasn´t invissible to the older boy and maybe, if he kept "being cool", maybe Toni would notice him more, and want to spend time with him, and maybe...

When the Pope looked down at him and asked him what he had seen all he could bring up to mind was Spain´s naked torso, strong and slender, all covered with sweat and ash, and that huge, childish smile he had when he came back from the race, brighting up the night more than any fire. His underwear grew smaller, even in the damn presence of the damned pope, and his cheek started tingling right where Spain had kissed. The poor, infatuated teen never stood a chance.

"Nothing strange happened" he mumbled, unable to meet his holiness gaze "They...they just celebrate a saint. The regular stuff. Nothing else."

The Pope was a little sceptic at first. France and Spain were two charming ones, and they could earn the heart of anyone to get them to lie...But it was Romano. There was nobody more grumpy, bitter and inmune to kindness in the entire plannet, so if he said there was nothing odd going on in that festivity, it had to be true.

...

* * *

The celebration is called "Las Falletas". It happens on Saint John´s night and it survived from pre-historic times until today. It even managed to survive the "mass-old-tradition-ereasure" that came after the French Revolution. It is common to many villages of the Pyrenees of Spain and France, but each one has their small variations in how they do it; some race with torches, some juggle with them, etc... It is considered world heritage and freaking amazing. Go watch it if you can!


End file.
